


Call On Me

by weekendoffender



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Liverpool, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekendoffender/pseuds/weekendoffender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He thought that Jon becoming a regular on the first team would temper things as they wouldn't see each other as much. Wrong wrong wrong, it only seemed to make it worse."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He didn't mean for it to get this bad. He intended his crush to stay at that, just an innocent crush. Over the months, however, it'd gone from innocent to anything but.

He thought that Jon becoming a regular on the first team would temper things as they wouldn't see each other as much. Wrong wrong wrong, it only seemed to make it worse. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' his mother had said after she caught him staring forlornly at a picture of Jon and himself he had stuck to his bedroom wall (among many other photos of course, as not to look suspicious. His mother, however, was not a dim woman).

But life went on. Slow, boring, frustrating; but it went on. The days turned into weeks, which turned into months and before long his happiness at being separated from his crush turned into despair as not only did they not see each other as much, they rarely saw each other at all. Countless hours were spent staring at his phone wishing it to ring before his mother bundled him into to the car and drove him down to Melwood with strict instructions not to come home until he’d spoken to Jon. And while he hadn’t spoken to Jon that day, watching his training sessions while hidden in the stands started to become a ritual. So much so that it didn’t take long for him to be noticed.

“Conor! Hey Con, wait up!”

He stopped dead in his tracks, contemplated running to his car and fleeing the car park, but decided that would look a tad strange. So he did the only thing he could, turn around and face the music (so to speak).

“Uh, hey Flano. What’s up?”

“Nothin’ mate, just... haven’t seen you in a while. Boys said you’ve been in the stands lately.”

A tell-tale flush began creeping up his cheeks as he tried to stumble out an explanation, all the while Jon’s grin grew wider and wider. “What? No... I mean, yeah yeah I’ve been here sometimes. Bored, you know? Yeah, just uh... just killing time and shit you know.”

“Oh, so you haven’t been here checking me out?”

He had no idea how to react, his face flushing bright red as he watched Jon laugh (At him? At himself? He didn’t know). But before he knew it, his embarrassment turned to anger and he lashed out, pushing away the hand Jon was moving towards him and snarled out a loud “fuck off!” as he fled for his car, studiously ignoring the confused cries from Jon behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He’d been lying on his bed feeling miserable for himself when he heard the doorbell ring. Not thinking much of it (probably just the neighbours like usual) he rolled over and stared at the picture of himself and Jon on the wall. What the hell had he done?"

He’d been lying on his bed feeling miserable for himself when he heard the doorbell ring. Not thinking much of it (probably just the neighbours like usual) he rolled over and stared at the picture of himself and Jon on the wall. What the hell had he done? Well, he knew what he’d done; he’d just fucked up the one relationship he was terrified of losing. But why? He knew Jon wouldn’t have been laughing at him; he wasn’t that kind of person. But what if he was now? Up until this afternoon it’d been months since they’d said more than two words to each other. Jon was first team now, that was sure to change a person. And what the hell did he mean ‘come to check me out’? He’d never given any indication that he had a thing for Jon. Not once! At least, he didn’t think so. Had Jon really just gotten that cocky? Or was he just that obvious?

God damn, what the fuck had he done?

“Coad? Can I come in?”

Oh good ever loving shit! Can his life get any worse right now? He mumbled out a quick “sure” as he kept his eyes trained to the photo on the wall (and his back to his guest) as Jon stepped in to his room and, from the sound of it, sat down on his computer chair.

“Your mum let me in. Told me you weren’t doing too well lately. She made me promise to try and make you feel better. She stuffed some apple crumble down my throat before she sent me up here though.”

He listened to Jon laugh; that quiet laugh he remembered from long ago that didn’t sound anything like the one he got earlier at Melwood. The laugh that made his own mouth tug at the sides, although he quashed the smile threatening to break out the moment he remembered what he’d said to Jon earlier.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, I… well you kind of freaked out on me in the car park so I just, I don’t know. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Well I’m fine, so you don’t have to hang around. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

“Oh…”

What the hell was he doing? It was like his mouth had a mind of its own; spewing all of this negative crap when all he wanted to do was be friends - real friends - with Jon again. Crush be damned, he missed him so much it was starting to hurt. His pride, however, would not let him admit such things.

“Come on Coad, what the hell is going on? You’re never… Conor, could you at least turn around and look at me?”

He sighed deeply, spent a few seconds weighing the pros and cons. Pros - if he can keep his emotions in check he might just be able to fix this situation. Cons - if he doesn’t, well he’s pretty sure there goes their relationship. He took one last look at the picture of the two of them on his wall; two young boys, arms wrapped around each other with huge smiles on their faces. He remembers that day, it was perfect. They were perfect.

He pushed himself up on his bed, back to the headboard and eyes anywhere but on Jon. After a few seconds of silence Jon got up and sat on the edge of his bed; the hurt that flashed across Jon’s face when he pulled his legs to his chest (and away from the other boy) broke something inside of him that he didn’t even know was there.

“Please Conor, I don’t understand. Have I done something? Why... I don’t...”

The laugh that came out of his mouth sounded foreign to his ears. It scared him, honestly, that he could sound so hollow at his age. How the hell did he end up like this? How could a little crush (anything but little) affect him so bloody much?

“Fucking hell Coad, you’re really freaking me out right now! Look mate, if I’ve done something to warrant this bloody attitude then just fucking spill it because I can’t handle much more of-“

“I miss you.”

He spoke it barely above a whisper, but the silence that settled around them the moment it was out felt thick. Or something. Heavy was a better word, he thought as he stared resolutely at a small spider making it’s way up his wall. It made its way up one wall and half way down the other before the silence was broken.

“You told me to fuck off because you miss me? You’re bloody weird Coad.”

He shrugged his shoulders and they settled into a semi-comfortable silence. Neither really knew what to say, but he could feel the tension slowly drifting away. Stolen glances showed that Jon had a small smile slowly settling on his lips, his eyes slightly creasing as he picked invisible fluff off the doona. He had no idea what to say, where to go from here but that little smile gave him a touch of hope; hope that he hadn’t screwed everything up.

“I’m sor-“

“You wanna stay at my place tonight? My family’s out of town for the weekend and we can do, I dunno, stuff. Like we used to, yeah?”

“What? No! I’m not a fucking charity case mate! Just because I say I miss you doesn’t-“

“I never said you were a charity case! In case you didn’t notice - mate - I don’t remember you bloody calling me! I fucking miss you too; I wanna spend some fucking time with you!”

 _“I CAN HEAR THE FUCKIN’ PAIR O’ YA SWEARING UP THERE!”_

Within seconds he’d gone from indignant to feeling like a 12 year old being caught stealing sweets from the jar. The look of shock on Jon’s face started him giggling, however, and before long they were both wheezing and gasping for air as they laughed like they hadn’t in years. Before he realised it though, their laughter had stopped and Jon’s hand was on his leg, squeezing lightly as the boy looked him square in the eyes.

“Please Con, stay over? I really do miss you, I just... I guess I thought you’d, I don’t know. Forgotten about me? I know it sounds fucking lame or whatever but you... I mean... just come, yeah?”

And before he knew what he was doing, he was staring at Jon and nodding dumbly. The smile that lit up the other boy’s face took his breath away and seconds later Jon’s hand squeezing his knee (oh god oh god please don’t go any higher) had him biting his lip and clenching his fists. Luckily, he thought, Jon didn’t seem to notice his body tense as the boy bounced off the bed and started towards his door.

“So normal time, yeah? Bring your controller because mine’s buggered. Oh and don’t worry, I’ll buy us some beer on my way home. Ok Con?”

“Yeah yeah, ok. I’ll uh, see you in a few then. Oh! Don’t forget to apologise to Ma on your way out.”

As he watched Jon practically prance his way out of his bedroom, he couldn’t think of that gorgeous arse, that infectious smile or that small laugh that he missed so much trailing down the stairs. All he could think of was how utterly bloody fucked he was.

“I oughta wash your mouth out with soap, Jon Patrick Flanagan! Swearing like that in my fuckin’ house!”

“Love you too Ma.”

Yeah, he was fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A few hours later and he was standing in front of Jon’s house; a war was raging on inside of him – knock and wait, or walk straight in like he used to. A stupid war really, but it felt huge and daunting as he stared at the front door."

A few hours later and he was standing in front of Jon’s house; a war was raging on inside of him – knock and wait, or walk straight in like he used to. A stupid war really, but it felt huge and daunting as he stared at the front door. He heard a noise and suddenly the door opened and his silent war was over, the choice taken from him as a Jon pulled him inside and ushered him (none too gently) down the hall as he chattered away about god knows what.

They ended up in the kitchen and he took the time to look around the house he knew so well as Jon made his way to the fridge to grab them a beer.

Everything was the same, every picture and ornament was still in their place. Even the dent in the wall from a rogue football was still there. It made him feel… better. A bit lighter, like his world hadn’t changed so much.

“You’re staring at my place like it’s been years Con. It’s only been about two bloody months you know, silly lad.”

And now he felt bloody stupid. Jon was right; it had only been a couple of months. It had felt like years to him though. Jon was his best friend, this was his second home. His crush was only recent; their friendship was, well, forever. Or at least it felt like it. He shuffled on the spot, couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a love sick puppy, so he just took a swig of his beer and stared out the back door.

“Oh shit. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry Conor, I really am ‘ay.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For… for everything! For not calling, for not, I don’t know, for not being a good mate. But it’s just; when I saw you at training I was so excited! The boys kept telling me they saw you around but I mean, I never saw you so I just thought they were riling me up you know? But then you were really there and-“

“Why would they give you stick for me being there?”

He watched as Jon stuttered a bit, his cheeks flushed pink and that was... odd. Maybe everyone could see straight through him? See how damn pathetic and love sick he got when he was any where near Jon. Oh god! Did they all know? Was he really that fucking obvious? Well good god, what did he expect? He hid in the stands at least twice a week to watch his crush practice. Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck he was screwed!

“Oh uh, no reason. Just... anyway I was just, you know. I was excited to see you. I didn’t mean to embarrass you earlier or anything. So yeah, thanks for coming over Coad. Uhh... Xbox?”

The moment the Xbox was out they fell back into old habits and it felt like no time had passed. They played Gears of War first, a game he sucked amazingly at. After much whining and complaining (from him, of course), they switched to Halo Reach, a game Jon sucked amazingly at. After listening to Jon whine and complain for 45 minutes it was on to FIFA 11, a game they both sucked amazingly at. The next 3 hours were ruled by arguments – arguments over who got to play as Liverpool, over penalties and cards and ‘accidental’ sabotage. Arguments that had them jostling and wrestling, ending up in them sitting extremely close together.

Around 11pm, both boys put their controllers down after the match (which he lost – again) and stared at the TV screen. He had no idea what to say, all he could think of was how close Jon was to him, how he could feel the heat of his thighs, the flex of his arm when he idly scratched his leg, could hear his breathing. He was so close so close so close, legs and thighs touching, shoulders brushing. If he just...

“What movie, Coad?”

“What? Oh uh, whatever you want.”

He watched Jon push himself off the lounge, held back a sigh as the boy used his thigh for leverage. It felt so good (too good) to have Jon’s hand right there. So so good he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“I haven’t seen you smile so much in ages!”

“Oh uh... sorry?”

“No no don’t be, silly lad. I like it.”

Jon lifted up the hem of his shirt to scratch his stomach, skin peeking out and he just couldn’t help but stare. He’d blame the alcohol later, but right now he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Jon’s stomach. When had it gotten so... so hard?

His thoughts were suddenly halted by Jon clearing his throat and he guiltily dragged his gaze away from the boy’s stomach and moved them to his face. The moment they locked eyes it felt like the room temperature increased by 10 degrees. The way Jon was looking at him; watching him carefully from under his eyelashes, worrying his lip between his teeth had him on edge. He gripped his knee tight, fingers digging into his jeans. He felt his cock twitch as he watched Jon’s tongue wet his bottom lip much too slowly to be innocent.

“Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?”

“I love you.”

Ok what the fuck? He had NO idea where the hell that came from and by the looks of it Jon didn’t either, considering the way he was staring at him with his mouth hanging open obscenely. Good fucking lord, he must be drunk! Oh fuck oh fuck, this was it. It was over; he had officially fucked everything up. He closed his eyes and wished the lounge to swallow him whole. Wished he was somewhere else, was someone else. Wish-

“Conor?”

Suddenly Jon sounded close, very very close. And then there was heat and breath in his face. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see Jon’s fist flying at this nose. What he did see was Jon only centimetres away from his own face; eyes searching his, teeth chewing on his lip nervously.

Before he could say anything he was being kissed. Fuck he was being kissed! It was barely there, just a press of lips to his own; tentative, soft. He opened his mouth with plans to... to protest, to question, to do something. But his plans went awry and he instead sighed deeply and before he knew it he was being kissed properly with lips and tongue and teeth and he couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep his guard up under those plump, soft lips and then he was kissing Jon back. It was hard, desperate, both boys terrified of being pushed away at any minute.

It was perfect, everything and nothing he’d imagined. All he could hear, all he could feel was Jon. The taste of him, the low sounds he made in the back of his throat, the way his hands touched any part of him he could reach. Hands in his hair, on his neck, down his sides, under his shirt. He could feel Jon slightly shaking, like he was slowly coming undone and it was the sexiest god damned thing he’d ever experienced in his life. He was doing this to Jon, HE was! He’d never felt anything so perfect as this moment. Not football, nothing.

And then the phone rang. The fucking phone! And all of a sudden the spell they were under was gone. Jon pushed himself up slowly, careful not to look him in the eyes, and headed off in the direction of the phone. He sat on the lounge staring at his hands, willing away his erection as best he could. He could hear bits of conversation; a very on edge sounding Jon explaining that it was only Conor here, that there were no parties and no loud music. He couldn’t help but laugh in spite of the situation; Jon’s mother always was such a worrier.

He looked up to find Jon standing in the doorway, didn’t even realise he’d finished on the phone. The boy looked terrified, his eyes nervously flitting around the room and he was once again chewing on his lip (when the hell had he started that anyway?). He looked lost, like a scared kid and it tugged at his heart so hard it felt like he was falling all over again.

He got up, put a DVD in the player, dragged a blanket out of the linen cupboard and dropped back down on the lounge; all the while Jon’s eyes never leaving him.

“Star Wars.”

“W-what?”

He situated himself in the corner of the lounge, pulled the blanket up and patted the spot next to him; a smile never leaving his face.

“I choose Star Wars.”

Within seconds Jon was next to him, and with some shy and awkward manoeuvring they were cuddled up on the lounge; Jon’s head on his chest and his arm around the boy’s shoulders to keep him close. And then he pushed play.

 _”A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...”_

“I love you too Con.”

Yeah, so maybe he wasn’t fucked after all.


End file.
